


Pelting of the Rain

by Artblart



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10434723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artblart/pseuds/Artblart
Summary: In the long dark of Gotham's night, the rain was always not far behind. Many nights Batman found himself clashing with villains on the streets or roofs of Gotham disturbing the deep puddles made by the rains that came before. Like tonight for example, the rain that drowned him while chasing the mad dog that is the Joker over roof tops, and diving down into alleyways only added to the atmosphere. The rain always seemed to intensify whatever need the Batman had tugging at his heart; it made him more fierce and desperate. Atmosphere like that usually lead him to be all the more reckless.......





	

Like fire, the feeling was almost comforting against the pelting of rain pouring over Gotham if you ignored the skin burn. There was a bite, a grip and then a swipe of tongues. It was far from soft, far from anything you’d read in books about love and passion—this was raw. It was an experience doused with desperation dancing with sloppy execution. Like everything else they ever did together, their coupling was fierce. Filled with so much hunger for something neither could put a finger on, they found themselves drowning in each other. Even this connection that lasted for maybe about 10 seconds still spooled out for an eternity for Batman. His mind, cooking within his skull caused him to panic—caused Bruce to panic. He suddenly felt like his suit and skin were both too tight for his own good. Despite the cold air, and the icy rain he felt like he was running a fever. When he blinked his eyes open after the clown pulled away, he couldn’t tell if the droplets crawling down onto his lashes were sweat or rain. It was like they had forgotten where they were and who they were for a moment. The only thing that romance novels hit on the nose about these sort of things is that time stops. Anything indicating the passing of time seems to be taken from you in that very moment. You can’t feel the rain fall anymore, the sound of police sirens wailing somewhere in the distance dies, and the smoke plumes from neighboring buildings freezes. Alarms ring in Bruce’s ears, giving him the most uncomfortable awakening and in that deafening second of silence he had wound up his arm and shoved it into the Joker’s gut to remind himself that time must pass. 

There was a thud, and a skid of shoes followed by an explosive bloom of strangled laughter. Both their breathes were strained or shaking from the excitement and audacity of each other. Batman spat first, more because the ever-rising rage coupled with a headache was beginning to scratch at the back of his mind again, “Why did you do that? That isn’t part of the game.” 

Another wheezed laughter from the melting face of the other who had doubled back on his heels, and nursing his stomach, “You—You have been getting increasingly more friendly. Letting me…get so close, leaving so many openings…I was merely being experimental. I'm thirsty for new content. You wouldn’t want me to start turning into a wet blanket and using the same old watered down jokes, now would you?”

The clown’s face twisted up into another fit of laughter masking the bruised sides, the throbbing gut, the bloody, cracked nose and a bashed head. The high-pitched squeal of pained enjoyment was choked off when Batman went for his throat. It was easy to shove the laughing clown to the ground of the roof they were on, and much easier to hold him there. Using his full weight, Batman barred down on the other man, pressing his palms and fingers firmly down on the trachea. The Joker tried to wrestle out of his grasp to keep the game exciting. He was fierce in his defense, trying to punch and roll his way out from under the masked vigilante but the grip around his throat was firm even with one hand as the other was raised and swung twice to the side of the Joker’s head. The assault sent his thoughts spinning even though he tried to instinctively blink away the dizziness. The dizziness was such an electrifying feeling, he welcomed it with open arms. The distant feeling of nausea that followed made his day. He wanted so bad for the Bat to swing again.  
“If you’re going to do it, do it. Choke up on the bat and swing at me baby.”

He couldn’t see it but he knew that Batman had raised one of his fists for a third. With rain pooling at his eyes, he found it hard to concentrate on anything but the immense taste of copper in his mouth and the warm grip at his throat. The Joker knew he was a few steps from death—the Batman knew it to. Joker invited it in with a loving look and pressed himself up to it like a honeymooner who hadn’t seen their lover all day. The grip tightened around his throat with every shift the clown made yet there was no third swing.   
“This has gone too far, Joker. We’ve gone too far!” 

The Joker would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t feel like rolling them would send them rolling across the floor of the roof they were currently playing on. He reached up blindly to grab at the forearms of his masked crusader and with some persuasion, pressed them inward so they bucked. If Batman wanted to talk, they would talk but the Joker needed a little bit of breathing room. Batman’s gloved hands withdrew but rested at the lapels of his jacket firmly. 

“No no no no no, we were meant to do this forever. We are the game. If you live, I live and the game continues. If you die, I die and the game dies.” It was a condescending and light headed tone he used for words he’s said several times before. It was ridiculous that the Batman made the Joker repeat himself. They had been whittling each other down for so long and yet, it still felt like they were at the start.

Batman’s lungs still burned and his stomach folded in on itself. Sweat, blood, rain and…tears were rivers across his face. He was angry, there was no doubt about that but with the Joker, it was more than just anger. He was filled with a nauseous sense of want, and confusion that shouldn’t exist. The mere mention of the word ‘forever’ made him almost vomit to. He didn’t want to do this forever because it was wrong. Doing this forever meant more pain, and more death for Gotham. And yet, knowing this, the word ‘forever’ seemed like a guiltful dream come true. Chasing and beating the Joker gave Batman, and Bruce Wayne purpose. The person behind the mask wouldn’t have to find a real meaning behind Bruce Wayne. The person behind the mask can live without ever having to become anything else. They were made and remade for this moment again and again.

They stared, not at each other but past each other into one another’s minds, prying to see what the other was thinking before the clown’s smeared face spoke again, “And you decide now that we’ve gone too far? Oh, darling, there are no safe words when you play with me. So play my game or get off.” 

The Joker begun to try forcing his way to sit up, but gloved hands pushed him back down hard. Joker’s body shook and he choked on a gob of blood and spit that was wading across his tongue. That, Joker liked. A giggle sprung from his lungs and he ran excited hands over the fistfuls of fingers and lapel that were on his chest bruising the skin on his heart. Batman’s chest burned like he was swallowing smoke; he was holding his breath this whole time. He couldn’t stand his laugh and just hearing it made his soul want to disappear. He put fingers to Joker’s mouth, roughly trying to squeeze it closed and making every movement painful for the clown.

“Atta boy. You had me scared for a minute that I’d actually have to go and kill you.” He managed through menacing giggles and a stifling hand.  
“I’d never give up. The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I refuse to let you win. You deserve to be brought down by the very people you despise. There’s nothing more I’d like than to watch you lose because you’re wrong. You’re wrong about everything. About me, about you and about Gotham.” Batman was more trying to convince himself that the Joker was wrong. He had to be wrong. There was no other option.

He was leaning in close so the Joker could see him. He leaned in far so there was no one and nothing that could pry the Joker’s attention away from him. The rain no longer poured onto the madman’s face—he blinked with clarity now that the water wasn’t in his eyes. That’s when the Joker saw it; he saw the boiling rage and passion in the other’s eyes. Oh.  
Its irresistible. It happened again for the second time that night; like fire, almost comforting in the pelting of the rain.


End file.
